Hello everyone. Tonight I present to you the first in a two part series exploring the wonder that is Thailand. Last week the intrepid Bryan Holzer and I ventured west for a bit of R&R from our incredibly hectic normal lives of drinking and doing nothing behind a desk. This is our story.

I said I would only go to Thailand if we agreed to do nothing at all cultural in any way, shape, or form. This meant that under absolutely no circumstances were we to go to any Temple, see any traditional art or dance, view any museum of any sort, any governmental building, or go on any trip (educational or otherwise) that involved the rich cultural history of the Thai people in any way. Bryan consented.

In return he demanded that we only go to areas in which drinking went hand in hand with water, not drinking water, heavens no, that would cut into the beer, just being around water. For instance, a bar inside a pool would be ideal, or a bar on the beach, but a bar near the pool would be acceptable as well. However, a bar near the beach was out of the question because this would involve too many technicalities. I consented. We shook hands, and were soon on our way.

Although we decided to spend two days in Bangkok, four days down south at a beach town called Hua Hin, and then another two at Bangkok, I will, for ease of reporting, split these entries up into Bangkok and Hua Hin. First, Bangkok.

Bangkok smells like poo. It is dirty as sin, hot as balls, and should you have to go pee outside, you will most likely pee on a cockroach. I saw rats scuttle out from under my feet with all of the haste of Katy the World's Fattest Cat (50 pounds). There was sewage everywhere, insane motorcycle riders, and people that would take mopeds out on expressways not only without a helmet, but also with young children sitting sidesaddle behind them, often three or four deep. Lanes don't matter to the cab drivers, who often blazed into oncoming traffic, nor do speed limits. Upon finding an open stretch of road, more than once our drivers clocked in at speeds in excess of 140 km an hour, or about 100 miles, often tearing by these little children on mopeds. As is more often the case, however, you hit traffic that can last for hours on end and that is usually the result of a 20 year old car dying. In the time it takes the authorities to clear it out, 20 more 20 year old cars have just died, and you wait. We waited for two hours once.

Be that as it may, Bangkok is also an extremely fun city, once you realize that absolutely everyone is running their own game, and that they all see you as a fat, lamed goose that shits golden eggs every time it's squeezed. This might not sound too appealing, but you should also realize that the Thai people are very laid back about their scheming. A hustler in Detroit, for instance, might really press you until you feel uncomfortable. They might also be huge and hairy and carry a gun. The hustlers in Thailand are often lazy, always small, and would have hawked a gun if they ever got a hold of one because they are so poor. You just walk by them, or say no, and they give up on you.

You want lady thai to boomboom? Just waaaaaalk on by.
You want lady thai to suck your banana? Just waaaaaaalk on by.
You want see lady thai smoke cigar with pussy? (We did actually get this one) Just waaaaalk on by.
You want lady thai that is man? Just ruuuuuuuun on by.


The first night we arrived we got in at 1am and promptly went out on the town. We told our cab driver to take us to one of the main bar streets called PatPong. He instead took us to a sex club that must pay him to drag customers to them. This was kind of dick of him, because by the time we told the women we didn't want anything to do with them, the driver was gone and we had to walk another five blocks to the bars. He was clearly running his own game.

In that five block walk we were talked to and hooted at constantly. Never in my life have I been so continually harrassed as a male. It was like we were supermodels walking through a construction site. I think Thailand is the only country in the world where women can walk about with a less chance of getting accosted than men. We had at least five people tell us that PatPong was closed, and that if we wanted to drink anything we would have to come to their shady as hell operation up some back alley. They were all clearly running their own game.

Naturally, PatPong was open and kicking. We returned to it several times, and there was always hundreds of people out dancing and drinking in the streets. We sometimes found a nice spot to sit back and take in the scene while sipping on a few beers, but just as often we ended up drinking amongst the multitudes. It was all such a radical change in scene from Japan that despite its shadyness it was very refreshing. Twice, latenight, we ended up at a small, open air bar on a sidestreet that seemed very Thai in that we were the only westerners to be seen. We immediately took this as a fantastic sign, and we were right. For the most part we were able to chill and reflected in peace while drinking lukewarm beer, afraid as we were to put ice in it, which is the custom in Thailand, where the weather melts your face even at night. Once a group of girls sitting behind us turned to me and held out her cellphone.

"What's the problem?" I asked.
"Look."
"At what?"
"Look this. I like this."
"The phone?"
"No, this..."

She clicked a button and her phone started to play several short clips of porn. Bryan leaned over to see what was going on as I got up to go take a leak

"What is it?" He asked.
"Just take a look," I said.

By the time I was half way across the bar I heard him laughing loudly. When I came back she was taking him through all of the moves she could do, via her phone.

"I think she's a stripper," I said.
"I think she might be a bit more than that," said Holzer.
"Is there anyone in this town that is not a stripper?"
"That's a very good question."

These girls were persistent, and one actually tried to pull me away from the cab I was getting in that we caught a short while later outside of the bar. As it turns out, they were trying to run their own game. Even on their off hours.

You might ask if we partook of any of the fine, authentic, Thai food in Bangkok. The answer is no. I tried once and got a bird claw in my noodles. After that I stopped. We did, however, eat at
1: Hard Rock
2: Auntie Anne's Pretzels
3: A&W Rootbeer
4: Burger King

Also, one time we took a short walk from the hotel to see if there were any cool restaraunts or bars nearby and, contrary to our mission statement, ended up near a temple of some sort. We quickly ran away to a Mr. Donut across the street.


On one of our voyages to and from the bars to the hotels we got an especially insane driver. Holzer and I are convinced that this fellow was either drunk or on some sort of upper. He continually asked us if we wanted to stop for hookers, and we continually told him no. This didn't keep him from slowing down by every single one of them he saw along the way, just enough to get their hopes up, then, as they moved over to the cab, he would speed off and laugh hysterically, all the while talking about how you could "Fit whole arm inside thai girl." After six or so of these slow down/speed up escapades he very suddenly became serious.

"You know George Bush?" He asked.
Here we go, I thought.
"Not personally," Holzer said, "why?"
"You know Tony Blair?" He asked.
"Why?"
"BECAUSE I SEE TONY BLAIR BOOMBOOM GEORGE BUSH IN PATPONG GEORGE BUSH ON TOP! HAAAAAAAA!"

And then he hysterically laughed and played his little "mess with the hooker" game once more before slowing down and getting very serious again.

"You know Condi?" He asked.
"Condoleeza Rice?"
"Yes yes, Condi. You know?"
"Dare I ask why?"
"She a virgin. I know," he said.
"I think she was married," Bryan said.
"No no. She no boomboom. I can tell by the way she walk. BELIEVE ME I KNOW THESE THINGS!"

And he sped off.

That, for me, pretty much sums up Bangkok: Generally fast paced, with only the occasional slow down, and always really, really crazy.

On a totally awesome aside, for those of you who watch 24, you will think this is just about the most amazing thing in the world. For those of you who don't, you probably couldn't care less, but regardless, here it is:

I saw Edgar in the Tokyo airport.

Well, at least, I saw the actor who plays Edgar on the show. His real name is Lou Lombardi. Bryan, despite having never seen an episode of 24 in his life, and despite my having seen every single one, told me immediately that "it couldn't possibly be him." So I accosted the man after he got through immigration.

"Excuse me, but are you Edgar from 24?"
"Yeah," he said, in that lispy Edgar voice and with that droopy Edgar smile.
"HOOOOOOOOOOOOOLLLLLLYYYYY SHIIIIIIIIIIITTTTTT!" I then said.

I went on to tell him how I loved his work, and that I was a diehard fan. And then I told him ****SPOILER ALERT****** that I was very sad to see his character die off and that I did infact tear up a bit. He said he was sad to have it happen too, and told me to write in to Fox to try and get the Edgar Show going strong. He then laughed an Edgar laugh and told me that they loved Edgar in Japan too. We shook hands, and I even got to snap a photo with him for ye of little faith.


Un-Freaking-Believable.

I've now been to two graduation ceremonies in Japan. The first was for the school that I work at, and it was what you would call a standard Japanese High School graduation, meaning that there was a lot of exaggerated bowing and prolonged speeches. It was extraordinarily formal, and for some strange reason it was very compartmentalized; everyone had a "starting position" in which everyone was situated a certain way, and then the M.C. would call certain people up to the stage to do their bit, and then everyone would return to "starting position" again. This was especially ridiculous for the principal, who had a part in every individual bit:

M.C.: "Mr. Principal, would you please come up to present the diplomas?"

The principal gets up, bows, moves to the stage, presents the diplomas to a few token students

M.C.: "Thank you Mr. Principal, thank you students, everyone please be seated."

The principal bows, goes back to his seat off the stage, and sits down for about three seconds.

M.C.: "Mr. Principal, would you please come up and present the attendance awards?"

The principal gets up, bows, moves to the stage, presents the awards to a few token students.
M.C.: "Thank you Mr. Principal, thank you students, everyone please be seated."

The principal bows, goes back to his seat off the stage, and sits down for about three seconds.....


Etc. Etc. Etc. for two hours. I think the principal got up and sat down ten or fifteen times. And when I say three seconds, I mean three seconds. It was like Hokay, gonna sit down here, onetwothree, aannnd up we go...

He speaks decent English, and we're pretty tight, he and I, so after the cerimony he came up to me:

Mr. Principal: "Brad Sensei! What did you think about cerimony?"
Me: "Very interesting. You moved a lot."
Mr. Principal: (Laughing)
Me: "Up Down Up Down, you know?"
Mr. Principal: (Laughing) (Laughing)

Like I said, we're pretty tight.

So tight, in fact, that just a few days ago he must have seen me:

a) walking in circles around the space heater
b) sleeping
c) giving Ace of Base another try on my playlist
d) making a little fort with my cell-phone for my paperclip village

....and realized that I was very bored. His solution? Invite me to another graduation! This time at a Junior High School! I admit, at first I was wondering if another two hours of watching people bow was what I really needed, but it turned out to be pretty cool. For starters, I was in the VIP section, so I got tea, and every single junior high student that got a diploma had to pass by our place up front and bow specifically to us. We gave them the briefest of uppity nods in return. I also got a little gift of bean paste wrapped in chewy goo, and they even served me coffee.

The cerimony itself was a sight to behold, mainly because everybody was crying.

At my Koho's graduation, not one student cried. I don't know why. I think it might be because some of them have no souls, but then again I could be wrong. I think tears are created in your soul, just under your left armpit, but I don't know for sure. I am not a doctor. Anyway, the only people crying at Koho were a few teachers, who do have souls. Souls that grew even bigger that day. Perhaps three sizes.

The graduation for Iwase Junior High was a cacophany of sneezes, mewling, sniffling, and speeches that ended in high pitched squeaks. Even the principal teared up on stage. The band director was flapping her hands about keeping the beat while her face was contorted up in an effort to keep from exploding in sobs. She looked like she was in pain. I did see a lot more of the girls crying that the guys, but I think that's because the guys will get the shit beaten out of them at baseball practice if the wrong dude catches them crying like a sissy. Not the girls, though. The girls could have at it, and it was contagious with them, it moved about them and would lie dormant until something set it off, kind of like herpes, and then whole rows of them would break out in tears.

I don't even remember my 8th grade graduation, aside from the fact that I ardently expected the perfect attendance award, and was genuinely shocked when I didn't get it. I think i spent the rest of the graduation thinking just how the hell I had blown it. Angela Lonigro ended up getting it, my ex girlfriend, who had dumped me around Christmas. Thanks a lot Angela. Catholic girls...I tell ya...

I do remember the graduation party afterward, it rocked. My mom threw a bitchin' party for my whole class and we all even danced with each other in that funny, stick up the ass way that 8th graders do. I would only become familiar with the dirty, crotch-grinding style a year later in high school. I was a late bloomer in the dancing department.

Where was I? Japan. Right. Well, these 8th grade kids probably weren't going to get a party, it's hard to fit one in when you're at school until 8pm every night of your life. And even if they did, I'm not so sure that they dance with each other here. They probably could have done a pretty wicked line dance, or maybe a carefully choreographed Dance Dance Revolution style thing, but crotch-griding? Dry Humping? No, the only 8th graders playing grab-ass are the ones in England, when they aren't in the bathroom blowing lines and taking ex to throbbing club beats, that is.

Just where the hell can a kid be a kid anymore?

I'll tell you where:

Toys R Us my friends. We will always have Toys R Us. Here's to you, Geoffrey Giraffe.

Why is it that, without fail, whenever you go home on a train at any time of the day with any sort of booze on you or in you, you always run into your students? Is this some sort of law that I am unaware of? What is going on here? It was Sunday night for God's sake, and I saw five of them on the train home.

Me (to myself): oh no oh no, is that Fujimitsuwhatshisface? It is. Aw damn, I'm wasted too. Maybe he won't see me.

(I, the six foot three red-headed godzilla, commence trying to be inconspicuous. Often by looking stupidly out of the window at nothing.)

Student: HEEEEEEYYYYYYY BRAD SENSEI!!!!!!!!!

Me: dammit.

Student: BRAD SENSEI! DRINKU? SAKE?!!

Me: haha. No, no. Go home children, ok?

Student: BRAD SENSEI SAKE?!!! OOOOOKKKKK!!! SAKE!!!!!

Me: No no, no sake, see you on Monday. Be safe. heh.


Without fail. I do not understand it. The problem clearly is that the kids are always coming or going to school in this country. If young people are ever going anywhere in Japan, it is either to or from school. Of course they are going to see me coming home on a Sunday with my head in my hands, reeking of smoke and Axe body spray. It really shouldn't surprise me anymore, but it does.

This weekend we went to a bar called Deniro, devoted (believe it or not) to Robert De Niro. The barstaff all wore various De Niro movie print shirts and there was an Andy Warhol-esque De Niro montage displayed prominently on one of the walls. A lot of Japanese bars have wierd-ass themes and are devoted to very strange cultural niches that I don't understand...This was not one of them. De Niro deserves his own bar. I was reminded of a bar we used to go to in Brighton called Ocean Rooms that also prominently featured Robert De Niro. There is something about the guy that inspires a party attitude; a party attitude with an attitude. If there is still a question in anybody's mind as to why this might be, I suggest that they watch Heat. That should just about clear everything up.

I have received a lot of mixed reviews about my recent blogs; some people, apparently, think I bitch too much. I wish I could talk to these people, but the horse that they are on is just too high. (SLAM!) There are also some people who rave wildly about my entries, almost like they were speaking in tongues. Those that don't like the bitching confuse me, because what else are blogs for? Does anybody really want to hear about how great someone's life is? Not this kid, I want complaining, it's funnier that way. In fact, I have recently noticed several things that, if they don't flat out annoy me, are at least very silly, and that I run into on a regular basis out here. Here they are, in no particular order:


1. Men That Wear Shoes That Curl Up At The Toe Like Elf Slippers.

What are we trying to do here Cinderella? Are you off to the ball? Shall I call the the Coach? Perhaps you are going to debate with the other Landed Gentry of the House of Lords and it's 1850. Or perhaps you are a showboating chump; I dunno-I am not a doctor. Only two dudes can pull of that look: Brad Pitt and Dan Siniwat. Otherwise: no go.


2. People Who Use "ne" At The End Of Sentences In English.

For the very vast majority of you who neither know nor care one wit about the Japanese language, the word "ne" is pretty much the same as saying "right?" at the end of a sentence. Like "That wasn't you that pissed in my trashcan, right?" or "We probably shouldn't stick our fingers in that, right?" Anywho, a lot of kids like to show that they know Japanese by sticking it in at the end of sentences in English, like "It was a fun night, ne?" or "You should wipe that dried spit off your face, ne?" This is not cool. I can't explain why. It's just not. Everyone I know has been guilty of this at one point, even me. Well, no, not me. I have never done this. But everyone else has, and they should stop it. Except chicks. Chicks can do anything they want.


3. Anime.

What is with that shit? Anybody? Bueller?



4. Over-posed photos.

Case in point:

Who the fuck do I think I am? James Dean? What a pansy. Seriously...

Welcome to March everybody. The infamous month in a JET participants life when nothing ever happens.

Seriously, I feel like my life is like a television set stuck on a repeat of "Leave it to Beaver." Everything I do I've done before, and all of it is a little bit lukewarm.

Every weekday:

Wake up in a freezing room? Check.
Do absolutely nothing at work? Check.
Drink entirely too much coffee? Check.
Walk home in the rain? Check.
Eat an inordinate amount of carbohydrates for dinner? Check.
Take a 45 minute shower? Check.
Pass out reading with my neck at an awkward angle? Check.
Can't ever read the goddamn mail? Check.

Every weekend:

Come home from work on Friday planning not to go out and thereby not spend hundreds of dollars? Check.
End up going out and spending hundreds of dollars? Check.
Kill my liver and kidneys? Check.
Wake up on Saturday morning on someones floor, cold and a tiny bit angry? Check.
Promise yourself not to go out on Saturday night? Check.
Go out on Saturday night until 8am, totally unnecissarily? Check.
Wake up Sunday in your own bed a tad more angry and twice as broke? Check.
Go to a five hour play practice for which you have five whole lines (One for every hour)? Check.
Decide to pass the time in between your five whole lines drinking one beer with Geoff that then turns into six or seven? Check.
Wake up on monday morning for work with a lingering hangover? Check.


March is so tame that everybody leaves. Literally, the entire JET population will be leaving for a full fourth of it, not only because it's easy to pull for days off in March, but also because I think a lot of people are totally burned out. I, for one, could use a change of scenery.


Staying out until 7am is a lot less cool than you may think. The last train is at 10:50, the first is at 6am, and somewhere in between senior year of college and now I started hating sleeping on people's floors. It's pretty much a matter of simple mechanics. It's not like I'm doing something mind-blowingly awesome that makes me forget the time completely and I look up and go "Holy Hell! It's 7am!

7am is all to rarely something that "sneaks up on you." Its usually more something that you have to fight dearly for. My quality of life would improve drastically if the JR rail system offered even one all-stops-included train between the hours of 11pm and 6am. I suggest at 3am. 3am is around the time I look at myself in a bathroom mirror and go, "what the hell am I doing?" I would prefer to have this onset of soul searching whilst passed out in my bed, so I don't have to think about it and can instead go back to trying to fly.

I have had a few fun times staying out that late, true, but I can tell you right now that nothing happened after 3am that hadn't already happened before it. If by 3am you have not at least started to do whatever you wanted to do, it ain't happening. It's like that one saying I just made up right now: You rarely need that last hour of the night.

And yet anything worth doing always happens after 11pm. Thus we have a real problem on our hands, a problem I spend a lot of time thinking about. In March. Because I am so very, very bored.

Incidentally, my statcounter has tracked a large number of hits on this site back to the Toyama Prefectural General Education Center, which, if I'm not mistaken, is where the Toyama JET top brass reside, so a hearty hello to Corporate! I hope you enjoy my lighthearted jokes about not working, beating my students, and binge-drinking! What a joker I am, right? heh heh.

A lot of people ask me if I'm afraid of what might happen if teachers or administration were ever to read my blog. I tell them that what I say needs to be said. The Japanese education system is severely lacking, my JTE's are the first to say so. There is a reason that performance levels of the Japanese are dropping well behind those of kids at similar educational levels in China and South Korea, and why Japan is losing some of its quality professors to the Universities in those countries; it's because the Japanese education system is dangerously flawed. You simply cannot pass everybody through indiscriminately. There are going to be consequences. It is not enough just to get in. In fact, experts say that in 20 years the whole country of Japan is going to explode! People need to know these things!

I've said it before, I'll say it again: I love the people I work with, and I love the students that put any effort into anything whatsoever. I'm not the greatest teacher, but if the JET program wanted good teachers they would have asked for more hours of teaching experience logged. Let me open my handbook here to find the current number required...

ah, here it is: None.

The portion of kids that harmlessly sleep, while worthless, are not a real problem for me.

The portion that I write about on this thing are the ones that actively work against my attempts to teach them and that beat on retarded kids. And them? Well, we all know what I think about them.